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koko is already tied to a chair, when suddenly she hears the screams of another woman. PD uncovers sahara’s head, which is locked into the wall of bifurcation. PD asks koko if she sucks cock. Whenever koko answers ‘no,’ sahara receives a nasty shock. As PD grows more demanding, things go worse and worse for the two girls. Eventually, koko is somewhat cowed. Sahara, however, is completely and infinitely – fucked…

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The luna moth is pale green and bears two long tails on either side, luminous and frail. A multitude of moths will come to lights when the night is dark, but the luna moths always caught his eye. They fly in search of the moon, and love, or more likely lust, of an entomological kind. Grey speckled spiders as big as a man’s hand will construct large webbed orbs near bright sources of light. We think of spiders as ugly as unkind, as murderers who eat out their prey from the inside.

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Bound and helpless atop a tatami bed, there is no escape for this Asian wonder. Ornately wrapped in ropes, she struggles to free herself. But PD’s bondage is tight and his torments are relentless. Slowly, she is disrobed and disoriented.

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He thinks of the Insex set as an autopsy room, where bodies are laid out, sliced, and cracked open. He thinks of the show as vivisection, as a method of discovery, every ounce of female flesh – a book. And her hair falling down about her throat, her painted lips and eyes, the endless fabric of young skin, her limbs, fingers, hair, cunt – a library. He studies her. He tests her endurance during the first hour with metal, the next hour with wrap after wrap of rope, and for the third hour, rubber. He weighs her down, ties her body into knots, encases her, then relents. After he is finished with the first torments, he begins.

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A friend gave me his phone number weeks ago. “Call him. Just call him,” she said. I’d stopped dating. It wasn’t the guys. Well, maybe a little. “Look, I’m over ‘relationships’ for the moment. I just want to be by myself for awhile. That’s all.” My friend shrugged. “Call him,” she said again. I was the youngest of three girls. Growing up, I’d watched my sisters and their boy friends. Clumsy kisses in the barn. Hands groping, pushed away, more groping. I had dreams, murky pictures in my head. And I’d fumbled with myself some nights, unsatisfied, my fumbling increasing my longing. Like cocks were doing now.

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Gagged and spread-eagled by a harsh metal spreader bar, her juicy pussy looks delious and inviting as PD straddles her face. Cyd wants to play too so a coin is tossed to decide this helpless victims fate.  Who gets her ass or who gets her mouth. One dildo goes in her ass and one in her cunt. The hard black cocks fuck her mercilessly. Rhythmically in her pussy and deep down into her throat. Her holes are fucked hard and deep. It almost sounds as if she purrs like a little kitten, while the two pervs get off on her discomfort. Not one, but two mr pogo’s invade her private sex holes by surprize, forcefully entering her tight flesh. Her ass gets fucked slowly while het mouth is occupied by the other black invader. A hard deep push makes her scream. She was not ready for this.

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Endurance is my master’s pleasure for a carnival of nasty delights. My submission almost defies life. To submit is to ignore that voice inside your head that is urging you to run out of the room. And it takes all my strength not to run.

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There’s certain things. I like certain things. I’m not supposed to, but I do. I like to pretend I’m a little girl. And there’s other things I like to pretend too, about men and about them wanting me in a way that’s wrong. Everybody says it’s wrong. But I like it. My boyfriend knows the way I like to play at being a little girl. So he bought me a T-shirt that says kittie on it. And he watches me from his car, waiting until I’m done with class. Sometimes he follows me home. I see him other times too. Watching.

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Bound and half-strangled, 912 stews in a sexual smog. She’s fucked, spanked, flogged, ass-fucked, and whipped in this dark rape fantasy. 912 at her best, drenched with sexual want. She dangles by her neck, already dreamy, half-gone. Her dress is filmy. You see everything. And she is filmy, transparent, as though she’s draining off slowly, and you’re drinking her, taking your time. You pull the rope tighter, so that it digs into her throat. You cover her nose and mouth. She fights for air. Dropping her to the floor, you drag her by the hair, cowing her with a cattle prod. A tray with condoms, dildo, ass plug, and lube is set beside her. She’s forced to plug herself even though she’s shackled. It’s all for you, for your enjoyment. She fucks herself. She’s bent over a stool and spanked. Tears fall. Her mouth is stuffed and taped. She’s spanked harder.

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Her Master sent her to Insex for some intensive training. With golden blonde hair and an angelic smile, she looked so sweet and pure. But beneath that cute exterior lay an astoundingly strong, brave woman driven by her own desire. In the live feed from November 18, 2001, 1030 stoically accepts all of PD’s tortures, confronts her fears, and suffers gracefully throughout. Locked down to the studio floor in metal stocks, 1030 first receives a lesson in patience and discomfort. She fidgets uneasily before the cameras, switching between the 3 positions that her bondage allows.

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